Cookies
by lululight
Summary: Trying to forget his most recent and disturbing case at a club Nick witnesses a husband beating his wife and in his effort to help her ends up on the oppisite side of crime investigation.
1. Chapter 1

Colored lights flashed over the club casting the countless bodies that danced in a strange eerie labyrinth of light and shadow. The bodies on the dance floor that pulsed with the frenzied throb of music seemed a stark contrast the other bodies in the corners. Most sat in groups, talking and drinking from colored glasses all embossed with the club's name, Prism. In the far right corner however, a man sat by himself. The man sipped from a colored club cup and watched the dancers. He was black-haired and even though he was not smiling you could tell that when he did it would melt any girl's heart. At the moment though he looked preoccupied and barely aware of where he was. This man was Nick Stokes.

He had come to the club hoping to find a pretty girl to dance with and take his mind off of things but now that he was here he didn't feel in the mood. He had just finished a case and usually that brought him a sense of ease to know that it was over and they could move on to the next crime scene but this one left him troubled. He had really hated his most recent case. A week ago he had been called to a house with the promise of a dead body. He had arrived ready to see blood but he hadn't expected the blood to have come from a sweet little six year old girl. Finger prints ended up confirming that she had been killed during a robbery. Through the whole case Nick had been cursing himself for being so emotional. It was always a struggle to hide what a softie he was when it came to children. When the case was closed and he went home he hadn't slept well. The bloodied face of the sweet little girl kept entering his mind. He finally decided that he could try out the new club close to his apartment. He had thought that surely loud music and strobe light could take his mind of the little innocent girl but now that he was here he just sat in the shadowy corners watching people dance.

His eyes scanned over the dancers. The colorful clothing and swishing hair blurred together. One girl caught his eye well, she was actually probably about his age but she looked so innocent. She was dancing by herself but that wasn't the reason she stood out. She was wearing a long white skirt, much longer than most girls wore to a club like this, and she was dancing different. She wasn't dancing like she was advertising she was dancing like she was doing it for the sheer fun of it. The smile on her face looked as if she was having the time of her life. Her brunette hair swirled with her moving body. She wasn't trying to catch any guy's eye. She was just having fun. Nick smiled, for some strange reason he liked this girl. She continued to dance, unaware of his eyes on her. He started to notice other things about her. Her pink long-sleeved shirt looked very warm for summer. Her feet were not strapped into high heels but what looked like cheap flip-flops. He also noticed that she had a bruise on her neck.

The woman abruptly stopped dancing. Her face was no longer one of happy contentment but of fear. He followed her eyes. She was staring at a man forcing his way through the crowd. He looked as if he had just come from work. He was staring at the girl with rage. Once he reached her he grabbed her arm with unnecessary force. He pulled into the shadows close to Nick. Nick looked away. He didn't want them to know that he had been watching them

"What do you think you are doing? Huh? All those men are watching you. You think I don't know what you are doing you little bitch?" Nick heard a slap and a whimper. He whipped his head around forgetting his pretense of not wanting to eavesdrop. In the shadows he could just make out the woman 

holding her face. It looked like she was bleeding. She whispered some unintelligible. The man laughed without humor.

"Having fun? You think I don't know what clubs are for? You are just trying to hook up with some guy. We are going home now." He grabbed her arm and started to drag her off but she tripped. He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her up. Nick felt anger boiling inside of him. No guy should treat a woman like that. He stood up and walked over to the man.

"Is there a problem here?" Normally the slight southern accent in Nick's voice only added to his charm but as he spoke these words his accent was anything but charming. Disgust and anger dripped from his words. The man turned around. He was a lot taller than Nick, but Nick wouldn't have care if he was seven foot tall. Guys shouldn't hit women.

"What business is it of yours? I'm just taking my wife home. She's tired." The woman peered from behind him. She had a cut on her cheek from her husband's ring. She looked frightened.

"Well, if she's your wife then shouldn't you at least be nice to her?" Nick asked with dark sarcasm. This guy was a real jerk. He turned to the woman.

"Hey," he said searching for words. "Do you want me to give you a ride?" Nick was desperate to help this woman. The woman looked at him with an interesting facial expression. He couldn't quite make out what she was thinking behind her fear.

"Of course she doesn't, I can give her a ride. Why would she want to go with you when I can drive her home?" He grabbed her arm again and made to drag her through the door but she didn't follow. She continued to look at Nick.

"Sure." She looked surprised at her own words but not nearly as surprised as her husband.

"You little bitch." He whispered and started towards Nick. Nick tensed his body preparing for a fight but before he could do anything a deep voice spoke from behind them.

"Is there a problem?" the club bouncer was behind them.

"No, no problem," the man said. The bouncer walked away. The man waited until he was sure that he wouldn't come back. "Here, take her. The little slut will only bring you problems." He shoved the woman. Nick caught her. She looked up him even more frightened than before.

Nick had come to forget his problems, now he just had created a whole new one.


	2. Chapter 2

Nick drove in silence. The only sounds in his truck were the muffled sounds of a country music station and the methodical sobbing of the woman next to him. He had just helped a woman get away from her abusive husband's rage and now he didn't know what to do. Nick had tried several times to get her name or where she lived but she just cried harder. He glanced nervously at her. As the car slowed to a stop at an intersection he leaned over and rubbed her back in a soothing motion.

"It's okay; everything's going to be okay." He murmured. Her crying slowed a bit. "How about we go to my place so you can calm down?" Nick asked. He took her lack of objection as a yes. "Okay, it's only a couple blocks away." He pulled off into the next lane and took a shortcut to his apartment. As he pulled into the parking lot he was glad to hear that the woman's sobs were slowly subsiding. He got out of his truck and opened up her door. She whispered a quite thank you and he gently lead her up to his home. His apartment was in the usual disarray. It was actually pretty clean for a guy's apartment but it still left much to be desired. A basket of unfolded laundry sat in the corner of his living room. A half-eaten sandwich was sitting on his coffee table. Other than that though, it was clean. He inwardly thanked himself for at least tossing his laundry into the basket before he went to the club.

"It's not much but…" Nick's voice trailed off as he sat her down on the couch. She had mostly stopped crying but tears still occasionally escaped her. Nick was trying to think of what to do next. As he 

watched her continued sobs his mind suddenly flashed back to his childhood. A five year old Nick sat crying on the sofa next to his mother back in Texas. A few friends of his had dared him to go into the old run-down barn on his cousin's property; but a board had fallen on him and a protruding rusty nail had caught his shoulder. Not only did he have to get stitches that day but the doctor also insisted on a tetanus shot. His mom had made him a big steaming mug of hot chocolate and slipped a small bit a whiskey in it to hopefully calm him down. He looked at the crying woman; if anyone needed hot chocolate it was her. It was definitely worth a try.

"I'll be right back." He went into his kitchen and pulled out the milk. Once he set it on the stove he searched his cupboards, surely he had some hot cocoa mix somewhere. Finally after a few minutes he came upon a sample pack that he had gotten complementary on a flight. Stirring the hot cocoa he set out to find the whiskey. This was much easier to find. It was on the top left shelf, like always. He poured a small amount in the frothy mixture and carried into in to the living room. The woman's sobs had reduced to hiccups. She looked curiously at the mug. He sat down next to her and placed the cup in her hands. She smiled when she saw what was in the cup. She took a large sip.

"Thank you, thank you so much. How can I ever thank you?" She whispered. Nick smiled his warming smile.

"You are most welcome." He let her take a few more sips. "I don't think I got your name." She set the cup down on the side table.

"Amy, Amy Brookwood, I live three streets over. I think I may have seen you before." she paused trying to remember. "Maybe at the gym? I don't know." She sipped her hot cocoa some more. After a few minutes of silence she spoke up again. "I shouldn't have done that." Nick looked at her confused.

"Done what?"

"Gone with you, it will only make it worse when I go back." She looked miserable. Nick only looked even more confused. This lady's husband hit her and she was going to go back to him?

"What do you mean go back? Surely you can't think of that after what he did to you-" Amy cut him off.

"Jake needs me." She had a sad look to her face. "I still love him, he just has been a little, a little, forceful lately." She looked as if she were trying to chose her words right.

"Well, it looked to me like he was being more than 'forceful'." Nick said simply.

"Oh no, he doesn't know his own strength. He has a bit of a temper and sometimes his does things he doesn't mean." She looked at Nick pleadingly as if she was trying to make him understand but Nick wasn't having any of it.

"He definitely looked like he meant it to me. Do you think this is unintentional?" His hand touched the still bleeding cut on her face making her wince. Nick stopped abruptly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." He paused. His indignant anger over the fact that a woman could let herself be a punching bag had been replaced by sympathy. "Maybe I could help you clean that?" he started to get up but Amy stopped him.

"It's okay, I'll be fine." she started but Nick ignored her and walked to his bathroom. He quickly grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and took it into the living room.

"Let me look at it." He took her cheek into his hand and gently wiped from around the cut. She stood still looking unsure whether she should let him help her or not. He tossed the paper towel into the waste basket and took out the hydrogen peroxide.

"Sorry if this stings a bit." He said apologetically. He took a soaked cotton swab a brushed it across the cut. He snapped the kit shut and tossed the cotton swab in the trash on the paper towel.

"I think I should be going now, really, you've been so kind, I can't thank you enough but. I should go. Can I borrow your phone to call a taxi?" She stood up. Nick did the same.

"Listen, I know this isn't really my business but I can't just let you go back to your husband and let him beat you when I know it is partly my fault." Nick didn't know what he planned on accomplishing but he really wanted to help Amy. As a CSI he got a little sick of bringing the dead to justice and taking killers off the streets. He helped the living in a passive way. He never got to see direct results other than criminals going to prison after they committed crimes and killed people. Now he has found someone alive that he can help and she doesn't want it.

"I don't plan on going home." Amy said. That took Nick by surprise.

"Wait, what?" This woman was seriously confusing him.

"When Jake gets, well, gets like this. I usually stay at a hotel for a night or two. It helps him cool off and he get worried about me so he is more forgiving." she looked embarrassed.

"Oh, okay then, I'll give you a ride to the hotel. He grabbed his cars keys." Amy shook her head.

"Actually I wanted to go home first, get a few things. Jake won't be home, it's a Wednesday, he has to work." She trailed off.

"I'll still drive you." He opened the door for her. She sighed as if she decided there was no use arguing with this man.

Nick had barely pulled out of the parking lot when his phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket and flipped it open.

"Yeah?" he answered.

"Hey Nick, it's me." The deep voice of Warrick Brown issued from the phone. "Gris set us on some case in a gas station you know the one with the big purple star on it downtown? I think it's called Lucy's or something. Anyway some burglar got shot by the owner but we have to make sure that it was self defense because it seems that the vic wasn't armed so…" Nick cut off the usual case description.

"I'm kind of busy. Do you think it would matter if I was late?"

"I don't know. Grissom is in a foul mood, something about the maid cracking his bug display case, or at least I think that's what he said. He was mumbling. I think you better get here soon."

Nick glanced at Amy. "Okay, okay, I'll be there ASAP." He hung up the phone. Amy seemed to already know the situation,

"It's alright. I'll call a cab," she assured him. Nick shook his head.

"I'll call a cab and pay for your ride." He corrected her. He fished his wallet out of his pants and shook out a few crumpled bills.

"Oh no I couldn't," Amy said as she tried giving the money back. Nick shoved them back into her hand.

"Take them I insist." He put his hands back on the wheel.

"That's my house." She pointed to a tiny condo. Nick pulled up in front of it.

"Thank you so much, I can't thank you enough." Amy climbed out of the truck.

"Don't mention it!"Nick called after her. He pulled out his phone and called a cab service.

"Hello, Star cab? Yeah, I need a cab for 401 South Chestnut. Yeah, it's for a Mrs. Brook wood, just got where she tells you. Uh huh. And if she needs anything call me alright?" He hung up the phone.

Nick watched her go into the house. After a few minutes he decided she was safe and drove off. In a few short hours he would be regretting his decision to leave so soon.


	3. Chapter 3

"You have got to be kidding me." Nick was standing at the doorway of Lucy's Stop and Go surveying the crime scene before him. A dead man in a dark hood was lying dead in a pool of blood. At least a dozen sets of bloody foot prints led out the door. Warrick turned around at the sound of his voice.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Those shoe prints are going to take forever."

"What happened? Where on Earth did all these prints come from? Surely it wouldn't take this many people to shoot one guy." He looked disbelievingly at the many shoe prints that covered the floor.

"No, the owner shot the burglar in alleged self-defense. Those foot prints are from the witnesses. Aparently a bunch of teens claiming to be 21 were trying to buy beer and split when they heard shots so they wouldn't get caught. I've already called prints 'cause I was here first so you get the lucky job of doing the shoe prints." Warrick smiled mischeviously. Nick groaned.

"Okay… I guess that is fair." He pulled out his camera and started taking pictures. Time passed pictures were taken, prints were documented, all the basic stuff.

They worked in silence. Warrick was intent on the fingerprints and didn't mind Nick's unusual silence. On a typical he would be joking, spouting theories and, and talking about what he had done that night. Tonight he was silent. Taking pictures and tape-lifting bloody prints. Warrick took it for tireness but in reality Nick was still thinking about Amy.

The silence was broken by Nick's ringing cell phone. He pulled out his phone and flicked it open.

"Hello?"

" What's the deal man? It's been almost two hours!"

"Excuse me, who is this?" Nick had never heard this man before.

"I'm the cab you called. They told me to call this number if I had any problems. The lady still ain't here. What's going on inside that house anyway?"

"What do you mean?"asked Nick. He didn't like the place this conversation was going.

"I mean there's been all kinds of yelling and screaming. Is everything okay in there?" Nick dropped the phone. He stood frozen. It couldn't be; she said her husband had to work. The phone had shut, dropping the call.

"Hey, nick what's wrong? Are you…" Nick didn't let him finish his sentence. He had grabbed his phone up from the floor and punched in Brass's number. He held it too his ear.

"Come on, come on, pick up."

"This is Captain Brass."

"Brass, you need to get down to South Chestnut, I think it's apartment 401, or 402, It' doesn't matter, you'll hear them, send out a patrol now!" Nick spoke with breathless urgency.

"Nick? What are you talking about?"

"Just send somebody, do it now!"

"Alright, alright, just calm down and tell me what's…" Nick hung up and ran his fingers through his hair. Warrick was standing beside him. He looked worried.

"Nick?" He put his hand on his shoulder. "What's going on?" Nick shoved out of his grip. He headed for the door. "Where are you going?" Nick ignored him as he ran for the door.

Once in his truck the reality set in. While he had been taking crime scene photos the sweet young woman he had met only a couple hours before had been beaten by the man she said she loved. He swallowed. What if she was dead? It wouldn't be the first time. The thought made him step on the gas pedal harder. Lights flashed by him. He finally reached Chestnut Street. The first things he saw were the flashing lights of police cars and an ambulance. He barely slowed down to park. Amy was nowhere to be seen. The only person he saw beside the police was her husband. He was with a paramedic. He appeared to have a cut on his arm. He was raving angrily.

"The bitch came at me. I swear to God. She just was pissed and grabbed this knife. I only defended myself."

Nick was shaking with anger. His mind clouded with rage as he started towards the man.

"What's the matter, she fight back you fucking bastard?" Nick yelled at him. Jake turned around.

"You? You took my wife! It's you who's the bastard!"

Nick felt an arm hold him back. He tried to get loose but the arms refused to let go.

"Nick," Brass's voice came from behind him. "Nick, let it go okay? Come on, we'll go down to the station, you can tell me what you know." Nick stopped struggling. "Come on, we can't get his guy unless you help us. Come on."

It took every ounce of self-control that Nick had, but slowly he turned away.


	4. Chapter 4

Nick sat on the edge of his seat. Brass had brought him into the interrogation room only a few seconds ago.

"Do you need something?" Brass asked sounding concerned. "Coffee? Water?" Nick shook his head.

"You still haven't told me where Amy is." Brass looked away uncomfortably. Nick felt his stomach drop. Was she dead?

"Well, she is at Mountain View Hospital right now. She looks a mess but they say she's going to be okay." Brass watched for Nick's reaction. Nick let out a relived sigh. He slumped into his seat. His eyes were starting to show lack of sleep. "Are you sure you don't want anything?" It looked to Brass like Nick needed a major caffeine dose if he was going to get through this questioning.

"Coffee, black, strong as you can make it."

"You got it." Brass signaled to a guard to pass it on. "So Nick, you've gotten yourself into a real situation. I get a call telling me to go to a house and when I get there I find a slashed up wife and a husband blaming her and you. Now I have been pretty trusting throughout this whole thing and taking our word for it. I think it's time for you to start talking." A man walked in with a cup and handed it to Nick. He took a deep gulp and stated his story. He began at the club told the whole story, the man hitting her, taking her to his apartment, the cab driver. He only stopped occasionally to take another gulp of coffee. Brass stayed silent until he was sure that Nick was done.

"What club was this?"

"Prism, it's relatively new." Brass made a note of it on the legal pad in front of him.

"Okay, here's the problem. Mr. Brockwood is claiming that you and his wife were in on a scheme together. He claims that you cooked up a plan together to make it look like he abused her. He claims that all the knife wounds were self inflicted." Brass held his breath as he ended his sentence. He already knew what was coming.

"What?" Nick yelled. "I just met Amy tonight. How would we have the time?"

"Oh, he doesn't deny that you just met. No, he agrees with you on that. It doesn't change his story though."

"He hit her Brass! He hit her! She was already bleeding when I took her into my apartment! She was wearing a sweater! It is summer and we live in a desert!" Nick stood up. "Why else would she wear a sweater unless she was hiding scars that her fucking bastard of a husband gave her?"

" I believe you, but can you prove it? Come on. Calm down. You're a CSI. You know that we are going to need more than your word in court. Now think. We need hard evidence. I'm sure we can find signs of past abuse on her body but we are going to need more than that to get you both off the hook. Can you prove any part of your story?" Nick sat down. He was still breathing fast. For five minutes the only sound that echoed in the small room was Nick's breathing which was gradually slowing. Brass was just starting to think that he had forgotten the question when Nick spoke up.

"The waste basket."

"What's that?"

"My waste basket, I cleaned her cut and tossed the stuff in the trash. It should still be in there. Some blood may have dripped in my truck too. That could at least prove that she was bleeding before." He looked hopeful.

"I set somebody on it. We can get a key for your room."

"I could just let you in."

"You need to stay here. I also will need the keys to your truck." This obviously wasn't what Nick was looking for.

"Now hold on," Nick said indignantly. "You can't just go poking into my private space, come on."

"You do it everyday Nick. If you want to help you will hand over the keys."

Nick sighed. Brass was right. He investigated people everyday but when it came to people investigating him he just felt invaded. What if he had Sara or Catherine do it and they had to look through his laundry? What if he set Greg on it and he found his stash of playboys in the closet? He pulled out his key ring.

"Can you put Warrick on it? At least let him be the one to process my house, please Brass."

"I'll see what I can do. Until then we would rather have you stay here. I'm sure we could find you a place to sleep. We will notify you on any updates in the case and if we have any questions…"

"You'll know where to find me."


End file.
